The Lost Boys

by Lilian Carmine

  We walked for a while, me silently fuming in self-righteousness, him trying hard not to laugh at my silly fuming. I noticed he was slowing his pace.

  “Well, I do think Tristan is a really nice name. Plus, who am I to make jokes? When I have a freaking glass roof,” I mumbled, kicking a small pebble on the ground.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, clearly confused. He really did talk funny, but maybe that was an Esperanza trait.

  He stopped a few seconds later when he realized I had stopped walking, and turned to look at me with a half-curious, half-confused face.

  “My name is Joe. Joe Gray,” I said, and squinted my eyes, daring him to make fun of me.

  We stared at each other for a few seconds, straight faces on.

  “Joe, huh?” he said, squinting his eyes back at me. “It’s a fine name.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Right,” he replied.

  I eyed him suspiciously for a second and then we both resumed walking, at an even slower pace. I wondered how much slower we could get.

  “So, Joe …” he began. “Does your mom suspect by now that you’re not actually a boy?”

  “Does yours suspect you’re not a real knight from the twelfth century?” I snapped back at him.

  He gave another of those sharp laughs of his. My stomach fluttered a little at the sound.

  “Ouch. Okay. Now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, I’m calling a truce,” he pleaded, and then he cleared his throat and invoked with a serious voice: “There will be no more name callings, my Lady Gray; that shall be my first commandment, true knight that I am.”

  “Well, you started it!” I laughed at him.

  “Yes, yes. But now we can laugh about it and move on, without the two big elephants in the room to bother us,” he said in an appeasing tone. “And also, you look nothing like a boy, so it shouldn’t bother you that much.”

  “My father really wanted a boy, and my mom wasn’t too much attached to gender conventions. And she also liked the name, so …” I mumbled, kicking another stone.

  “Well, now that I know you, I can’t imagine you having any other name, Joe,” he said, flashing me his stunning bright smile. “Though I prefer Joey.”

  The nickname sounded strangely heartwarming coming from his mouth. “Thanks, Tristan,” I said, blushing.

  We had left the older part of the cemetery by now, and flowers in varying states of decay adorned some of the graves. Even the air seemed fresher and newer. A soft breeze brushed through my hair, making it flow like in the movies. I took a quick glance at Tristan and saw him looking at me with a strange expression on his face. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, avoiding my searching gaze.

  “So, Joey, if I may call you that, are you here visiting a … family member? Should I be offering you my condolences?” he asked uncomfortably.

  “What? Oh. No, no! No one died,” I answered, and he looked relieved. “I live just at the end of the block, and I was helping this old lady, my new neighbor actually, to bring some flowers to her husband’s grave.”

  “Oh, you mean Miss Violet and Bobby?” he asked.

  “Do you know her? She brought these flowers in this freakishly heavy vase. I swear to you, it weighed tons! I think it was made of iron. That’s the reason I’m all covered in dirt, by the way,” I said, eager to explain my current grubby state to him. “How about you? Are you … visiting?”

  He looked around before answering me. “No. Not visiting. I’m here most days. I like to hang around here. It’s quiet and nice … and no one bothers me.”

  “Oh. So you live nearby too?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes. I live nearby. But I mostly just walk around in here. Killing time, you know how it is …” And he trailed off.

  “You like to spend your time alone in a deserted cemetery?” I repeated incredulously.

  He shrugged and looked away. “We’re almost at the entrance. If you follow this path straight ahead, you’ll end up at the front gates. You can already see it from here,” he said, gesturing ahead of him.

  “Oh. I see,” I said, a little deflated and disappointed. I realized I’d had a romantic notion that he might walk me home. Apparently not. “So, thanks so much, Tristan. It was nice meeting you.”

  I extended my hand to him. He looked at it in silence, his hands shoved inside his pockets. He showed no intention of taking them out. Well. That was sort of rude, especially for someone as seemingly old-fashioned as him. While I retracted my hand with a puzzled look, he seemed seriously conflicted about something, but then he just shook his head sadly, dismissing whatever he was thinking.

  “Yes,” he said, finding his voice. “It was nice meeting you too, Joe Gray,” he said ceremoniously, and there was this hint of sadness again in his eyes. “Maybe you can come back here tomorrow? I can show you the tourist parts of the cemetery. Did you know there’s this sculpture of a famous artist in here? People come to take pictures of it all the time!”

  I stared at him. He seemed like a decent guy. He dressed a bit too formal, but he was very good looking. As in the out-of-this-world-unbelievably-hot type of good looking. He wouldn’t have problems finding friends. Or girlfriends, for that matter. Well, who I was kidding, he was good looking enough to have his own TV show! Or his own rock band, or whatever. Why on earth would he want to hang out with me, of all people, and in an old cemetery, of all places? There was something seriously strange going on with this boy!

  I realized I had been staring at him in silence for a few minutes now, but I honestly didn’t have a clue what to answer. That’s when Miss Violet showed up out of nowhere, almost giving me a heart attack.

  “Oh, hello, dear, still here? I thought you were going grocery shopping?” she inquired curiously, and glanced sideways at Tristan.

  “Yes, hi, Miss Violet. I got a little lost,” I said emphasizing the “little”, which earned me a smile from Tristan. “Tristan here was helping me, showing me the way out.”

  She stared at Tristan, who just looked at the ground with his hands behind his back, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

  “Was he, now? How nice of him, such a kind soul,” she said, looking intently at him. “I think it’s time for you to go, dear,” she said to me. “Your mom will be worried. And there’s all the shopping to do yet,” she added, grabbing my arm and yanking me away from Tristan, then pulling me to the gates with vigor.

  I stumbled outside, rather puzzled by the crazy old lady’s sudden insistence that I be on my way. I glanced back into the cemetery for a second. Tristan was still standing there, watching me go. I smiled awkwardly and waved him goodbye. He waved back with a soft sad smile and slowly walked away, disappearing from sight behind a big mausoleum.

  And I didn’t even have the chance to give him my answer.

  Chapter Three

  Extraordinary!

  The next day, I woke up very early, in a very good mood. I was going to track Tristan down at the cemetery after lunch. I hoped he would be there, but since we hadn’t agreed plans to meet, I didn’t know for sure. However, I had nothing else to do, so I thought I should give it a try. After all, the worst that could happen would be having a nice afternoon walk alone in the cemetery. I had enjoyed walking there yesterday – before I got lost – and the weather was still crisp and dry.

  I wasn’t fooling myself, though – mostly I wanted to see Tristan again. I couldn’t forget the sad look he had given me before I walked away from the cemetery yesterday. He’d looked so … lonely. What harm could it do to keep him company today? I had really enjoyed talking to him; he was clever, witty and charming, even if he was slightly odd in his manner. The fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hurt, either.

  I passed the morning unpacking. After a quick lunch with my mom, I put on my best jeans, my favorite orange hoodie, my old Converse shoes, and re-styled my pony-tail really high. I didn’t like wearing my hair down much. It was always in a pony-tail and my mom was always complain
ing about it. She wanted me to let it hang loose since I had “such beautiful hair”.

  But I was always on the side of comfort instead of beauty. Comfortable clothes, comfortable hairdo, comfortable shoes. Make-up was always a challenge for me, too. I’ve tried a few times, but I thought I always ended up looking like a hooker. You need to have skills to apply make-up, and I most certainly didn’t have any. So I decided to stick with just my favorite tangerine lip-gloss today. After all, it wasn’t like I was trying to impress a guy I’d just met yesterday. A pony-tail and lip-gloss were more than fine. I yelled to my mom to let her know I was going for a walk, grabbed a warm coat and left the house.

  I got to the cemetery in less than ten minutes, much faster than the day before. I didn’t have the gigantic vase of flowers to slow me down this time! I entered the front gates with light steps and walked around for a while. I didn’t remember exactly where I’d met Tristan, since I had been lost at the time. I just remembered it was in the old part of the cemetery, somewhere at the centre.

  I walked for about twenty minutes without finding a living soul. It was just me and the dead. After a while I started to recognize a few of the more elaborate decayed tombs and a beheaded angel with one broken wing that I’d seen right before I’d found Tristan sitting on a tomb. That tomb right over there! Hey! I had found it! I looked around for him, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. What was I expecting? That he’d be here all day long waiting for me? Stupid, Joe.

  I walked over to his tomb (it was his tomb now for me), cleaned off the small mound of snow at the top and grasped the mossy edges, putting my feet on a crevice for support, and pulled myself up. I sat there surveying my surroundings. It was a nice view but the sun wasn’t as warm as yesterday, and a chilly December breeze was biting sharply into my skin. I closed my eyes and inhaled the crisp fresh air happily. It was so peaceful up here. I was beginning to understand why Tristan liked it so much. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd after all. I could stay here the whole day, just chilling.

  “You know, you’re in my spot there, Miss Gray,” a voice said from down below. I scrambled up with a start at the sudden noise, almost falling in my haste.

  “Jeez, Louise! You almost gave me a heart attack there!” I said, putting a hand over my chest, trying to slow down my pounding heart.

  Tristan was leaning against the tomb, hands in his pockets, smirking. “I’m glad you decided to come. I thought Miss Violet would forbid you to see me,” he said with a defiant glint in his eyes.

  “Why would she do that?” I asked, stepping down carefully from the tomb.

  “I don’t think she likes me very much,” he muttered darkly.

  “Oh. So you’re the local bad boy?” I teased. “Does she think you’re a trouble-maker?”

  He seemed offended. “No, I’m not! I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like seeing me around here. But I’ve every right to be here too!” he said, a bit angrily. “She has no business telling me where I should be!”

  “Calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said, approaching him cautiously.

  He eyed me suspiciously and took a small step back, obviously uncomfortable with my sudden proximity. What was that about? He seemed almost … afraid. I stopped and watched him closely. He was wearing what appeared to be the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Black trousers, white shirt and the same leather jacket. He must be freezing, I thought, as I took in his neat, slicked-back hair. So formal; so serious.

  “Miss Violet didn’t say anything to me. And even if she did, she’s not the boss of me! I can do whatever I want,” I said defiantly. “Well, everything that my mom lets me, that is.” I shrugged and smiled weakly at him. He laughed at my lame rebel speech and seemed to relax a little. “So, what about that tour you promised, to see that famous sculpture?”

  He beamed at me and made a fancy gesture with his hands, bowing slightly. “Follow me, milady.”

  We walked and talked all around the cemetery, back and forth through the shadowy lanes. He asked me a million questions, about my life, my old town, my friends, family and hobbies. I talked and talked endlessly and he listened with a contented smile. Sometimes he interrupted me to ask another question, but mostly he just let me ramble on. From time to time, he would point to a sculpture or a grave with someone supposedly famous in it. He always stopped and stayed quiet for a few minutes, like he was admiring the design – or listening intently to something – and then he would give me a lecture about the person buried there. It was so weird and funny at the same time! I tried to ask him questions too, but he kept deflecting the conversation back to me in such a natural way that it was a while before I noticed he was uncomfortable talking about himself.

  A couple of times we passed this really old man, who looked like the caretaker of the place. He was clearing the smaller pathways and kept giving me odd glances whenever we passed him. I pointed it out to Tristan the second time we passed him by. “Hey, that old dude keeps giving me some weird looks. What’s up with him?” I asked, annoyed. He was looking at me like I was a crazy person or something.

  Tristan looked at the man, holding in a laugh. “Old Johnson, you say? He’s harmless, don’t worry about it, Joey. He probably thinks it’s odd for a kid to wander around the cemetery alone, that’s all.”

  “I’m not alone. You’re with me,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, of course,” Tristan said quickly, with an amused smirk. “I meant alone as in without adult supervision,” he corrected himself.

  “Oh, okay,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed now. The old man was probably thinking we were a couple of Goth kids, drinking and getting up to no good. That would explain the strange looks he kept giving us.

  We carried on walking and I continued talking for a while, but then I glanced at my cell phone. It was past five o’clock. I was beginning to feel hungry.

  “Hey, Tristan, how about we go grab a bite to eat? There’s a coffee shop on the corner,” I began, but he pulled a face that made me stop.

  He stopped walking and shuffled his feet, a troubled expression on his face. “I … I’m sorry, Joe. I can’t go,” he said sadly.

  I waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t I mumbled, “Oh, another time, maybe?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to but it’s … uh, complicated. But we can hang some more here, if you want to,” he said, peeking at me hesitantly through long dark eyelashes.

  I watched him, intrigued. His eyes were telling me he was trying to hide something, and that he was sorry about having to hide it. He looked trapped and guilty, but honest at the same time. “Okay. I guess we can hang out here a little more,” I finally agreed. “But I’m tired, let’s take a break from walking.”

  I sat on a stone bench nearby, below a tall tree. He sat by my side, a little way away. He really didn’t want to get close to me at all, I was beginning to realize. He must have some kind of problem. I had read about this. People with germ phobia, wasn’t it? Scared of touching anything, of getting contaminated. He must have freaked out big time yesterday at the sight of me all covered in dirt! That would’ve traumatized any germophobic for the rest of their life!

  “So, Tristan, you haven’t said much about yourself. I feel like I’ve been babbling about myself like a maniac, here!” I exclaimed, stretching my legs.

  “There’s not much to talk about, really,” he said, looking at the view in front of him. “I haven’t done anything interesting in ages. My life’s pretty boring You have all these amazing things going on in yours.”

  “Really?” I asked, astonished. I wasn’t aware my life was that cool or amazing.

  “Yes, really,” he said, laughing. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been lots of places, you play lots of instruments, you can do martial arts, you even worked briefly in a circus, for God’s sake!”

  “It was just a summer gig!” I said, laughing back at him, astonished at how much he had been paying attention when I’d told him about my l
ife. “And I just helped set up the acts; it wasn’t a big deal. My mom and I have this rule, you know: to be open to new things in life, good or bad. She’s taught me that we have to always be ready to walk new paths, experience new things. She’s always arranging some weird, different stuff for me to do. Now she has this new fancy job that she’s really excited about. And here I am. New town. New life,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying the weak sunlight bathing my face. The wind was really sharp and cold now, reminding me that this was indeed the end of the year. I shivered and pulled my coat closer to my body.

  “Aren’t you cold, Tristan?” I asked, gesturing at his leather jacket.

  “I don’t feel the cold much,” he replied simply. “You know, you are extraordinary,” he said in a low voice, and his tone carried a deep longing and something else I couldn’t quite discern.

  I turned to look at him curiously. His eyes were fixed on me, sparkling silver in the fading sunlight, and filled with so much admiration and awe. I blushed fiercely as he looked away from me; clearly he was embarrassed that I had caught him staring.

  “Well, um … it’s getting late,” I said, flustered. Then my cell phone rang with my mom’s ringtone, the theme song from the TV show Law and Order, making us both jump. I fumbled in my jeans pocket and took the call. “Hey, Mom,” I answered, noticing Tristan staring at me strangely, as if my phone were a two-headed monster. “Yeah, everything is fine. I know, I know, it’s getting late. I was just coming home. Yeah, I am! I’m turning the corner of the block right this second. I should be home in, like, ten minutes! Okay? Bye!” I hung up quickly and stood up, patting my clothes awkwardly. “Sorry, Tris. I have to go. Last curfew.” I shrugged apologetically and smiled at him.

  He looked surprised when he heard me calling him “Tris”. It had just come out of my mouth without a second thought. I smiled extra awkwardly then. He stood up and stuffed his hands back in his pockets with an amused expression. I guess he wasn’t expecting a nickname from me so soon.